I have gained acquiantance with a few new people. A friend I prefer to call Wenti [ for reasons I choose not to disclose ] and my Bhabhi. Both are a-door-a-bell.
Its such an interesting thing, you know, getting to know new people, or new things about people or sometimes, new things about your own childhood.
Just last night, Mom and sis were talking about my childhood antics. I had learnt from the movies that when you are angry, you can open the cupboard and scatter its contents all over the room. In the process, you can put ketchup stains in shirt collars, crumple some trousers and break some toys. Of course, the movies never showed the pyaar-ke-side-effects. A few showers of pyar-bhare-chatacks later, I knew I couldn't repeat that scene. So, I improvised. I started emptying the contents of the cupboard into the bed.
PS: Mom insists that there weren't so many chatacks. Just some pyar-bhare-ear twists. I run to the mirror and after a careful perusal, I still beg to differ.
Its the first time I spending time with bhabhi. She is so sweet. Sometimes I laugh at her innocent questions. Sometimes I admire her culinary skills. A doctor, a wonderful chef, a singer and a beautiful lady - all rolled into one.
"Bhaiya, you are having too much luck. First you had me as your younger brother. And now her!"
Yesterday I also met Ms Wenti. She is a suave young girl and she reminds me of a raw egg. [No, I don't intend to liken her voice to a new born chick's raucous shriek! For the love of my life!!!! Truth be damned! ]
I mean, she is all rational and logical on the outside but on the inside, she also has a soft core. Sometime back she was threatening me, "If you tell this to anyone, you've had it"
This really makes me curious. I've never had "it". I want to have "it" but I don't know what "it" is! I fear that it comes with some unknown side effects, so I won't take chances!
When I think of my stoopid past, I feel like I am a naked umpire in an India Pak World Cup Final. But suddenly, its not so lonely in here. I know of at least one person who is as prone as I am to making those stoopidities !
Welcome Comrade Wenti!
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
Friday, August 25, 2006
The kitten!
Have you ever been cruel to yourself?
Done things you couldn't forgive yourself for, ever ever?
I once straggled the neck of a small kitten by mistake. I was so scared, I hit it with the long stick that I had in my hand as it was running away from the kitchen. And it turned turtle. Probably fainted.
My sister ran to attend to it. I stood in a corner, half afraid, half guilty. Soon it ran away almost healthy. I guess it was as scared as I was, and that was probably all there was to it. However, ever since then, this incident has almost become a metaphor of cruelty for me.
Right now, as I sit in my room, doing nothing but pretending to be engrossed in a movie, I get the same feeling. The feeling of being alone scares me. In the words of a professor, I start shitting bricks. Completely imaginary bricks and in the figurative sense, to be sure. But then again, I am also afraid of crowd.
I think it began after there were rumours of determined individuals roaming around with HIV-infected syringes, looking for the right opportunity to puncture people's bums. And then, I would become one of them.
Next time, watch your back especially when I am around!!!
But isnt it a weird combo?
autophobic-cum-demophobic!
I just finished watching Before Sunrise. Great movie. Except that I seem to have lost the patience to sit through the 3 long hours. Phew!
I think I will do some window shopping online. Isn't it great to look at all the things you could buy if you had enough money!
In imagination at least, you don't need real money.
From Before Sunrise:
Daydream, delusion, limousine, eyelash
Oh baby with your pretty face
Drop a tear in my wineglass
Look at those big eyes
See what you mean to me
Sweet-cakes and milkshakes
I'm delusion angel
I'm fantasy parade
I want you to know what I think
Don't want you to guess anymore
You have no idea where I came from
We have no idea where we're going
Latched in life
Like branches in a river
Flowing downstream
Caught in the current
I'll carry you
You'll carry me
That's how it could be
Don't you know me?
Don't you know me by now?
Done things you couldn't forgive yourself for, ever ever?
I once straggled the neck of a small kitten by mistake. I was so scared, I hit it with the long stick that I had in my hand as it was running away from the kitchen. And it turned turtle. Probably fainted.
My sister ran to attend to it. I stood in a corner, half afraid, half guilty. Soon it ran away almost healthy. I guess it was as scared as I was, and that was probably all there was to it. However, ever since then, this incident has almost become a metaphor of cruelty for me.
Right now, as I sit in my room, doing nothing but pretending to be engrossed in a movie, I get the same feeling. The feeling of being alone scares me. In the words of a professor, I start shitting bricks. Completely imaginary bricks and in the figurative sense, to be sure. But then again, I am also afraid of crowd.
I think it began after there were rumours of determined individuals roaming around with HIV-infected syringes, looking for the right opportunity to puncture people's bums. And then, I would become one of them.
Next time, watch your back especially when I am around!!!
But isnt it a weird combo?
autophobic-cum-demophobic!
I just finished watching Before Sunrise. Great movie. Except that I seem to have lost the patience to sit through the 3 long hours. Phew!
I think I will do some window shopping online. Isn't it great to look at all the things you could buy if you had enough money!
In imagination at least, you don't need real money.
From Before Sunrise:
Daydream, delusion, limousine, eyelash
Oh baby with your pretty face
Drop a tear in my wineglass
Look at those big eyes
See what you mean to me
Sweet-cakes and milkshakes
I'm delusion angel
I'm fantasy parade
I want you to know what I think
Don't want you to guess anymore
You have no idea where I came from
We have no idea where we're going
Latched in life
Like branches in a river
Flowing downstream
Caught in the current
I'll carry you
You'll carry me
That's how it could be
Don't you know me?
Don't you know me by now?
I AM RESTLESS
by: Rabindranath Tagore (1861-1941)
AM restless. I am athirst for far-away things. - My soul goes out in a longing to touch the skirt of the dim distance.
- O Great Beyond, O the keen call of thy flute!
- I forget, I ever forget, that I have no wings to fly, that I am bound in this spot evermore.
- I am eager and wakeful, I am a stranger in a strange land.
- Thy breath comes to me whispering an impossible hope.
- Thy tongue is known to my heart as its very own.
- O Far-to-seek, O the keen call of thy flute!
- I forget, I ever forget, that I know not the way, that I have not the winged horse
For the love of soan papdi
No, this is not in the manner of LalJalebi and others. This is just the Haldiram's Soan Papdi I am talking of.
I just love it. I can easily take the risk of several queasy nights just to quench my lust for SP. Like I did last night.
As it happens, yesterday was a lucky day. My trip to Mumbai turned out to be extremely lucky. The visa process took very little time, and even lesser trouble. I didn't even have to pay the visa fee. I felt like kissing the lady at the counter - an innocous peck at the forehead meaning "Thanks a lot. Game for a coffee ;) " . The Ticket Checker in the train did not pain me for not carrying the passport along with the e-ticket. [No, I didn't feel like kissing him.] I spent ~4 hours at the Crossword near Grant Road in Mumbai reading books- Blasphemy by T Durrani, selected poems of A E Poe, a primer on winetasting and an allegedly raunchy book titled something like "The Bachelorettes Party". The first two were awesome. Durrani is like God. In her portrayal of poignant moments, in unravelling the truth behind deep veils and in bringing us to question some very basic things we do. All this, only if u are sitting in a cool, spacious Crossword store with nothing better to do. I also managed to spot two beautiful poems by A E Poe : "Annabel Lee" and "For Annie". Simple, yet spirited. Quiet, yet beautiful.
Yeah yeah, you might be tempted to say, "Not Again!". I mean, I admit that I am a die-hard romantic. I like either romantic poems or sad ones.
In class 9th, I used to think the lice in this particular girl's hair were more fortunate than I was. After a few years and a little more growing up, I reserved my jealousy only for human beings!
To add to the list of good things, the girl at the counter in Crossword was gorgeous. And she had a good hindsight.
My room is quite empty and full. Just like my mind.
Probably the only thing in my mind right now is the hurry to run back to the comfort of my home. Am longing to be back there. And till that happens, I will let my work expand to fill up all the time thats left here.
Artist: Radiohead
Song: Creep
But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo.
What the hell am I doing here?
I dont belong here.
I just love it. I can easily take the risk of several queasy nights just to quench my lust for SP. Like I did last night.
As it happens, yesterday was a lucky day. My trip to Mumbai turned out to be extremely lucky. The visa process took very little time, and even lesser trouble. I didn't even have to pay the visa fee. I felt like kissing the lady at the counter - an innocous peck at the forehead meaning "Thanks a lot. Game for a coffee ;) " . The Ticket Checker in the train did not pain me for not carrying the passport along with the e-ticket. [No, I didn't feel like kissing him.] I spent ~4 hours at the Crossword near Grant Road in Mumbai reading books- Blasphemy by T Durrani, selected poems of A E Poe, a primer on winetasting and an allegedly raunchy book titled something like "The Bachelorettes Party". The first two were awesome. Durrani is like God. In her portrayal of poignant moments, in unravelling the truth behind deep veils and in bringing us to question some very basic things we do. All this, only if u are sitting in a cool, spacious Crossword store with nothing better to do. I also managed to spot two beautiful poems by A E Poe : "Annabel Lee" and "For Annie". Simple, yet spirited. Quiet, yet beautiful.
Yeah yeah, you might be tempted to say, "Not Again!". I mean, I admit that I am a die-hard romantic. I like either romantic poems or sad ones.
In class 9th, I used to think the lice in this particular girl's hair were more fortunate than I was. After a few years and a little more growing up, I reserved my jealousy only for human beings!
To add to the list of good things, the girl at the counter in Crossword was gorgeous. And she had a good hindsight.
My room is quite empty and full. Just like my mind.
Probably the only thing in my mind right now is the hurry to run back to the comfort of my home. Am longing to be back there. And till that happens, I will let my work expand to fill up all the time thats left here.
Artist: Radiohead
Song: Creep
But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo.
What the hell am I doing here?
I dont belong here.
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
An Old Letter Revisted!
..snip..
Through the window of time, some memories whisper.
Those stolen moments arrive in a flash.
I am caught in a time warp.
My mind refuses to believe that these distances aren't transitory; that it'll be quite some time before we meet again; that our paths have finally taken turns and diverged.
Stronger than all these benumbing thoughts, however, is the conviction that whatever be our paths, we will always strive to attain the highest peaks of success; that we'll give each other reasons to be proud of our friendship; that we'll shine and distinguish ourselves from the crowd.
I can't tell you how eagerly I wait to see you climb the ladders of success. From whatever I have seen, I must warn you that the battle is tough, the task is daunting and distractions are plenty. But you must stick to your chosen path. And run like you are mad.
Pant and gasp.
But run.
Run for what it is worth.
..snip..
This comes from a note I wrote for a dear friend more than a year back. How appropriate it looks today!
Four gruelling exams in two days. Sleep inducing question papers. Neat, somewhat blank answer papers.
The bird who has tried shitting on me twice in two days at nearly the same time of the day. Yesterday, she had her way but today I escaped. Mostly by providence.
Sleepy evenings, groggy nights.
Half sensical telephonic conversations.
Satirical jokes, all-revealing DBabble nicks.
That pretty much sums up my last two days!
Except the night two days back. That kind of things happen only once in a while. When you look inside yourself and speak the things you were always afraid to admit. The things you never could tell anyone. Not even yourself.
Suddenly, the trip to Germany seems to be round the corner. Hectic packing, making checklists, ringing up people, booking tickets etc serve as constant reminders. Then there are the occasional attempts to plan a trip to Barcelona, registering requests for Italian studs' photus and all that masti! Hmm.
Am waiting to reach home. Will get to spend time with bhabhi for the first time.
Still a few days to go before that.
Through the window of time, some memories whisper.
Those stolen moments arrive in a flash.
I am caught in a time warp.
My mind refuses to believe that these distances aren't transitory; that it'll be quite some time before we meet again; that our paths have finally taken turns and diverged.
Stronger than all these benumbing thoughts, however, is the conviction that whatever be our paths, we will always strive to attain the highest peaks of success; that we'll give each other reasons to be proud of our friendship; that we'll shine and distinguish ourselves from the crowd.
I can't tell you how eagerly I wait to see you climb the ladders of success. From whatever I have seen, I must warn you that the battle is tough, the task is daunting and distractions are plenty. But you must stick to your chosen path. And run like you are mad.
Pant and gasp.
But run.
Run for what it is worth.
..snip..
This comes from a note I wrote for a dear friend more than a year back. How appropriate it looks today!
Four gruelling exams in two days. Sleep inducing question papers. Neat, somewhat blank answer papers.
The bird who has tried shitting on me twice in two days at nearly the same time of the day. Yesterday, she had her way but today I escaped. Mostly by providence.
Sleepy evenings, groggy nights.
Half sensical telephonic conversations.
Satirical jokes, all-revealing DBabble nicks.
That pretty much sums up my last two days!
Except the night two days back. That kind of things happen only once in a while. When you look inside yourself and speak the things you were always afraid to admit. The things you never could tell anyone. Not even yourself.
Suddenly, the trip to Germany seems to be round the corner. Hectic packing, making checklists, ringing up people, booking tickets etc serve as constant reminders. Then there are the occasional attempts to plan a trip to Barcelona, registering requests for Italian studs' photus and all that masti! Hmm.
Am waiting to reach home. Will get to spend time with bhabhi for the first time.
Still a few days to go before that.
Friday, August 18, 2006
The Mumbai Diary!
--on way to Mumbai-- [16th August, ~10pm]
For a little more than a day, I will be talk of the town ..er.. I mean, I will be out of the town. To be the talk of the town, at least in my native city Banda requires a very different set of activities. The top three would be:
=getting into one of those IAS category services
=going around with the beautiful girl in your gully on a bike
=getting a job in Mumbai even vaguely related to Bollywood - the sabjiwallah whose cart is toppled in every fight scene, assistant makeup man, spot boy or anything else.
What won't make you the talk of the town is:
=burning your wife for dowry
=jumping into the neighbourhood well because your husband has an affair with the pados wali lady
=thrashing anyone and everyone you can find at the electric station for the long and frequent power cuts
Sounds weird. Even a little disturbing. But then, we all move around with a big "Do not Disturb" painted right on our forehead. In BIG font. So, nothing seems to bother us anymore.
I am on a train to Mumbai. Ideally I should be sleeping. A fellow banterer kept me awake till 5:30 am last night. We were planning the abduction of curnol-ki-beti to get hold of the desh-ki-file. We were talking about Pappu ki mummy ki pot belly. We were also talking about why I suddenly seem to be afraid of being myself. The real me.
I mean, it is okay to need some chicken soup [or saliva-inducing jalebi] for your soul.
Isn't it?
At least between us, the issue has been resolved. I had only little sleep last night. Isn't sleep such a waste of time!? Except when you really can't do without it. Why waste your time doing nothing?
Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
--on my way back-- [August17, 10 pm]
I am on my way back. It was a mission unsuccesful, but I can't really claim to be disappointed. My neck is slightly paining. I was probably looking like a baby hippo last night. So the caretaker gave me a pillow that resembled the well rounded thigh of a plump she-hippo. Smooth and round, alright. But verrry uncomfortable.
We also had some exotic Lebanese and Iranian food in Mumbai [@Piccadily ]. It tasted great acoompanied by a glass of fresh lime soda. But it didn't full-fill my stomach. So I took my friend to our old place - the Moti Mahal Deluxe, and had a nice chicken curry to appease our growling stomachs.
A trip down Mumbai's lane took me down memory lane as well. Sweet and sour memories from the days of my summer internship at Mumbai came flashing back. Sitting on marine drive, loitering around the Gateway , travelling in jampacked local trains....
Zzzzzzzz
For a little more than a day, I will be talk of the town ..er.. I mean, I will be out of the town. To be the talk of the town, at least in my native city Banda requires a very different set of activities. The top three would be:
=getting into one of those IAS category services
=going around with the beautiful girl in your gully on a bike
=getting a job in Mumbai even vaguely related to Bollywood - the sabjiwallah whose cart is toppled in every fight scene, assistant makeup man, spot boy or anything else.
What won't make you the talk of the town is:
=burning your wife for dowry
=jumping into the neighbourhood well because your husband has an affair with the pados wali lady
=thrashing anyone and everyone you can find at the electric station for the long and frequent power cuts
Sounds weird. Even a little disturbing. But then, we all move around with a big "Do not Disturb" painted right on our forehead. In BIG font. So, nothing seems to bother us anymore.
I am on a train to Mumbai. Ideally I should be sleeping. A fellow banterer kept me awake till 5:30 am last night. We were planning the abduction of curnol-ki-beti to get hold of the desh-ki-file. We were talking about Pappu ki mummy ki pot belly. We were also talking about why I suddenly seem to be afraid of being myself. The real me.
I mean, it is okay to need some chicken soup [or saliva-inducing jalebi] for your soul.
Isn't it?
At least between us, the issue has been resolved. I had only little sleep last night. Isn't sleep such a waste of time!? Except when you really can't do without it. Why waste your time doing nothing?
Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
--on my way back-- [August17, 10 pm]
I am on my way back. It was a mission unsuccesful, but I can't really claim to be disappointed. My neck is slightly paining. I was probably looking like a baby hippo last night. So the caretaker gave me a pillow that resembled the well rounded thigh of a plump she-hippo. Smooth and round, alright. But verrry uncomfortable.
We also had some exotic Lebanese and Iranian food in Mumbai [@Piccadily ]. It tasted great acoompanied by a glass of fresh lime soda. But it didn't full-fill my stomach. So I took my friend to our old place - the Moti Mahal Deluxe, and had a nice chicken curry to appease our growling stomachs.
A trip down Mumbai's lane took me down memory lane as well. Sweet and sour memories from the days of my summer internship at Mumbai came flashing back. Sitting on marine drive, loitering around the Gateway , travelling in jampacked local trains....
Zzzzzzzz
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
The toy I was afraid to touch.
We were on a summer trip to an uncle's place. It must have been some 10 years ago I guess.
I was in a group of three boys, and my sister in her group of three girls. By then, she was grown up enough to stay away from our games. The 'doctor-doctor' game and the 'poshampa' game.
One of my uncles gifted one of the boys a nice shiny airplane. It was quite unlike the other toys we had in our coterie. It made a sound that reminded us of a real plane and it even had a red beacon that glowed. It fascinated me, and I instantly took a liking for it.
However, the very next evening, our return ticket had been booked and the elders were planning out the details of the journey. I heard them and ran off to our playroom. I looked at the airplane. I knew I only had a few more days to play with it. Every one else, including the toddlers was at the dinner table. As mom called out aloud for me, something crossed my mind, and I made a hasty decision. Sometime that evening, I took out a few screws from the plane to make it dysfunctional and interred it in our backyard. For a few days after that, everyone looked around for the airplane, some people even suspected the housemaid. "She also has a kid after all!". Of course, I never told anyone.
I have found a solution for the lemmings. I am going to get their necks cut. At a butcher's ...er... barber's shop.
I am also planning to buy a laptop. It would be a perfect companion for my lap. With a thick pillow resolutely seperately the two, just in case you got worried about the future of my khaandaan!
With end terms just a week away, methinks the frequeny of my blogging is going to fall down. How I love to talk out aloud !
Just last night, another friend of mine expressed concern for my liasion with German babes.
"German babe ke sath lupt,
hamare pyaare Mr Gupt!"
Ok, that was how I rephrased it. The actual words instead were,
"mr. gupt, germany jaakar kisi german ke saath lupt mat ho jaanaa..."
How sweet and genuine a concern :)
I wonder if I walk around with a hoarding that says, I love German babes. I mean, babes are babes, and German babes can be really flashy. But no thanks. No foreign mems for me, please. Unless her father owns a big bank!
Then it is different.
I was in a group of three boys, and my sister in her group of three girls. By then, she was grown up enough to stay away from our games. The 'doctor-doctor' game and the 'poshampa' game.
One of my uncles gifted one of the boys a nice shiny airplane. It was quite unlike the other toys we had in our coterie. It made a sound that reminded us of a real plane and it even had a red beacon that glowed. It fascinated me, and I instantly took a liking for it.
However, the very next evening, our return ticket had been booked and the elders were planning out the details of the journey. I heard them and ran off to our playroom. I looked at the airplane. I knew I only had a few more days to play with it. Every one else, including the toddlers was at the dinner table. As mom called out aloud for me, something crossed my mind, and I made a hasty decision. Sometime that evening, I took out a few screws from the plane to make it dysfunctional and interred it in our backyard. For a few days after that, everyone looked around for the airplane, some people even suspected the housemaid. "She also has a kid after all!". Of course, I never told anyone.
I have found a solution for the lemmings. I am going to get their necks cut. At a butcher's ...er... barber's shop.
I am also planning to buy a laptop. It would be a perfect companion for my lap. With a thick pillow resolutely seperately the two, just in case you got worried about the future of my khaandaan!
With end terms just a week away, methinks the frequeny of my blogging is going to fall down. How I love to talk out aloud !
Just last night, another friend of mine expressed concern for my liasion with German babes.
"German babe ke sath lupt,
hamare pyaare Mr Gupt!"
Ok, that was how I rephrased it. The actual words instead were,
"mr. gupt, germany jaakar kisi german ke saath lupt mat ho jaanaa..."
How sweet and genuine a concern :)
I wonder if I walk around with a hoarding that says, I love German babes. I mean, babes are babes, and German babes can be really flashy. But no thanks. No foreign mems for me, please. Unless her father owns a big bank!
Then it is different.
Monday, August 14, 2006
The Bald and the Beautiful
The former is my fear, the latter is my dream! :)
I mean, when your hair decide to fall off like suicidal lemmings, you can't help thinking about them. Its real bad I must tell you. I am hoping that I won't have to get my shadi.com photo clicked wearing a wig. I have even started wearing more and more of Axe deo, to the point where I was offered bulk discount on a carton. You know na, it hasn't helped! Some people gasp for breath, while others just ignore it. Nobody has jumped on me. Not yet.
But I feel happy today. I had at least a part of the revenge on a certain Mr Kots. Kots and Momo, my next door neighbours, suddenly seem to have ganged up against me. They allude to imaginary incidents, fictitious conversations and nasal songs to embarass me."It's all in the family" they say. Today at the dinner table, Kots accidentally revealed one of his secrets. And I couldn't have been happier. I used it much to my heart's delight, and we had a good laugh. I am sure the lactymase[or wutever it was they taught us in Class IX!] enzymes in my alimentary canal had an easy day today.
How many times in a day do you get that weird feeling called "Not Yet!" ?
The maggy ain't cooked, not yet.
The assignment ain't complete, not yet.
The dark night isn't over, the rakhi hasn't arrived, Preity Zinta hasn't kissed me, Bill Gates hasn't adopted me, I haven't got my visa, I haven't learnt to keep my mouth shut at times, I haven't grown up and nobody has jumped on me. Not yet.
Meanwhile, the Pavlovian experiments have turned out to be disastrous. Picture this:
You are sound [but silently] asleep in the classroom. It feels like you are floating in heaven, and all that stuff about menakas and apsaras. Suddenly, you find them running around, talking in a hush-hush and scampering for textbooks and casemats. You see the projecter screen go down and weird figures begin to appear on it. The laughing buddha is having a hearty laugh. The menkas and apsaras turn into familiar faces. Then it strikes upon you that the prof has announced a quiz, and you join the running-around batchmates, trying to find someone to share the casemat/textbook. You somehow try to ward off an impending zilch. The daily quota of sleep is debited [or credited, whichever makes sense] to the next lecture. As the prof laughs aloud, you begin to wonder if you would make a good he-rudali.
As each day passes by, there's still less of life left to enjoy.
"...Chal, soche kya, choti si, hai zindagi,
Kal, mil jayein, to hogi, khushnaseebi..."
Ref: "Pyar ke pal..."
Artist: KK
I mean, when your hair decide to fall off like suicidal lemmings, you can't help thinking about them. Its real bad I must tell you. I am hoping that I won't have to get my shadi.com photo clicked wearing a wig. I have even started wearing more and more of Axe deo, to the point where I was offered bulk discount on a carton. You know na, it hasn't helped! Some people gasp for breath, while others just ignore it. Nobody has jumped on me. Not yet.
But I feel happy today. I had at least a part of the revenge on a certain Mr Kots. Kots and Momo, my next door neighbours, suddenly seem to have ganged up against me. They allude to imaginary incidents, fictitious conversations and nasal songs to embarass me."It's all in the family" they say. Today at the dinner table, Kots accidentally revealed one of his secrets. And I couldn't have been happier. I used it much to my heart's delight, and we had a good laugh. I am sure the lactymase[or wutever it was they taught us in Class IX!] enzymes in my alimentary canal had an easy day today.
How many times in a day do you get that weird feeling called "Not Yet!" ?
The maggy ain't cooked, not yet.
The assignment ain't complete, not yet.
The dark night isn't over, the rakhi hasn't arrived, Preity Zinta hasn't kissed me, Bill Gates hasn't adopted me, I haven't got my visa, I haven't learnt to keep my mouth shut at times, I haven't grown up and nobody has jumped on me. Not yet.
Meanwhile, the Pavlovian experiments have turned out to be disastrous. Picture this:
You are sound [but silently] asleep in the classroom. It feels like you are floating in heaven, and all that stuff about menakas and apsaras. Suddenly, you find them running around, talking in a hush-hush and scampering for textbooks and casemats. You see the projecter screen go down and weird figures begin to appear on it. The laughing buddha is having a hearty laugh. The menkas and apsaras turn into familiar faces. Then it strikes upon you that the prof has announced a quiz, and you join the running-around batchmates, trying to find someone to share the casemat/textbook. You somehow try to ward off an impending zilch. The daily quota of sleep is debited [or credited, whichever makes sense] to the next lecture. As the prof laughs aloud, you begin to wonder if you would make a good he-rudali.
As each day passes by, there's still less of life left to enjoy.
"...Chal, soche kya, choti si, hai zindagi,
Kal, mil jayein, to hogi, khushnaseebi..."
Ref: "Pyar ke pal..."
Artist: KK
Sunday, August 13, 2006
Childish Delight!
Thats probably one of the last things one can expect to find at an institute like this. You know, it is supposed to groom managers for tomorrow. Does that leave any scope for the child of the yore?
Surprisingly it does. Amidst all the hectic schedules, deadlines, group meetings and what not, sometimes I do manage to entertain myself with a treat of childish stupidities. Endless meaningless blabber. I mean, one really can't get back to the level of "wanna-see-if-fart-is-inflammable?" stunts. . . but one can manage a decent level of pranks and jokes. You just have to find the right set of people to play them on!
Today is a friend's birthday. We tried to make it an elaborate celebration with all the surprise, cake and after-cake treat. I think he must have liked it. . . Who wouldn't ! Reminds me of the one time that I pulled off the surprise on Sweety's birthday. I managed to get a cake on time, carried it around in my carry bag, made some lame excuse for why I had to carry the bag around with me, and then, finally, at the chosen spot on our campus, I pulled the cake out of the bag. She had no clue and was mightily impressed. In HIMYM terms, I believe it was legendary.
For those of you who are not a part of the WIMWI clan, yes, we do get time for all this. All this and more. I have sifted through a few hundred poems, slept like a well-fed donkey and watched three movies almost in a row today. Not to say that the approaching end terms don't bother me! I mean, with all the competitive people around you, you can't really afford to let go of such concerns. But it is manageable, to say the least.
The weather here is beginning to get boring. Its almost as if the rain God was on diuretics. Add that to the general feeling of having survived the first term at IIMA, and you have in front of you a zombie. A zombie with an IQ just enough to understand Hollywood movies, with some help from IMDb and similar websites. Ask him to write a report on the automobile industry and he will gawk at you like you are a mix of dodo and dinosaurus.
"Here's looking at you, kid"
Ref: Casablanca
Surprisingly it does. Amidst all the hectic schedules, deadlines, group meetings and what not, sometimes I do manage to entertain myself with a treat of childish stupidities. Endless meaningless blabber. I mean, one really can't get back to the level of "wanna-see-if-fart-is-inflammable?" stunts. . . but one can manage a decent level of pranks and jokes. You just have to find the right set of people to play them on!
Today is a friend's birthday. We tried to make it an elaborate celebration with all the surprise, cake and after-cake treat. I think he must have liked it. . . Who wouldn't ! Reminds me of the one time that I pulled off the surprise on Sweety's birthday. I managed to get a cake on time, carried it around in my carry bag, made some lame excuse for why I had to carry the bag around with me, and then, finally, at the chosen spot on our campus, I pulled the cake out of the bag. She had no clue and was mightily impressed. In HIMYM terms, I believe it was legendary.
For those of you who are not a part of the WIMWI clan, yes, we do get time for all this. All this and more. I have sifted through a few hundred poems, slept like a well-fed donkey and watched three movies almost in a row today. Not to say that the approaching end terms don't bother me! I mean, with all the competitive people around you, you can't really afford to let go of such concerns. But it is manageable, to say the least.
The weather here is beginning to get boring. Its almost as if the rain God was on diuretics. Add that to the general feeling of having survived the first term at IIMA, and you have in front of you a zombie. A zombie with an IQ just enough to understand Hollywood movies, with some help from IMDb and similar websites. Ask him to write a report on the automobile industry and he will gawk at you like you are a mix of dodo and dinosaurus.
"Here's looking at you, kid"
Ref: Casablanca
Friday, August 11, 2006
An Auto to Frankfurt
Well, thats what I felt when I called an auto to go to Fly Fortune World Travel Services. They have been kind enough to book my ticket to Frankfurt. No, its not for free. Punched a hole in my imginary future pockets. Side pockets, to be precise. May be even a gaping chasm, rather than a hole.
It still hasn't sunk in. I mean, the whole hole has been carved all right. But if you tell me that in less than a month, I will be more than just a few thousand miles from here, I might feel like punching you. Or may be even biting off your ears. Or I may just accept it.
Like I accept the frequent anonymous comments I receive on my blog. They all say the same thing, and point back to the same website. A website which seems to offer the cure to just about everything - from failed love to insufficiently grown body parts. Thanks, but no thanks.
So, yesterday, someone (or something, in case it is a smart crawler written by a pseud programmer coding his way to $$) had this to say:
"Hmm I love the idea behind this website, very unique."
If you come back again Mr/Ms Anonymous, and if you can understand what I am saying, Thank You. If you can't, our bad luck.
Reminds me of my last trip to Germany. How the five of us survived on the food we ourselves cooked. Went on a shoestring budget to numerous locations. Spent five working days of the week planning the mode of travel for the weekend. Ate and drank merry.
Mom, before you chatack me,
[chatack]
no I didn't drink any liquour. And didn't befriend any gori mem.
But I missed the food you cook at home.
Yes, I am full of anticipation. Also a little trepidation.
Will it be fun? What of all the things I am leaving behind? Will I enjoy?
Will I miss all my friends I am leaving behind?
What I will do when I know I can't ring up didi any second I want to?
Innumerable question, only one reply. I don't know.
Raksha Bandhan just passed by, and I was caught in this place. Its been years since I spent RB with didi. This year, even the postal department #$%$ played foul. The registered post hasn't arrived yet. The whole context prevents me from invoking my imagination... but I really want to blast the seven generations of everyone working in the Indian Postal Department.
Its 5:38 am, raining outside and the weather is so pleasant.
I have just come to know that there is an avid reader of my blog. Thank You indeed, AR.
I tried standing on the balcony but the water dripping from the top, bouncing off from the iron railing and landing on my cheeks was too irritating.
I still managed to have a passing thought.
Will this road take me to
Where I want to go...
But wait, do I even know, where I want to go !
[Sorry for the poor rhyming scheme... I am not given to writing readable verse! :D ]
It still hasn't sunk in. I mean, the whole hole has been carved all right. But if you tell me that in less than a month, I will be more than just a few thousand miles from here, I might feel like punching you. Or may be even biting off your ears. Or I may just accept it.
Like I accept the frequent anonymous comments I receive on my blog. They all say the same thing, and point back to the same website. A website which seems to offer the cure to just about everything - from failed love to insufficiently grown body parts. Thanks, but no thanks.
So, yesterday, someone (or something, in case it is a smart crawler written by a pseud programmer coding his way to $$) had this to say:
"Hmm I love the idea behind this website, very unique."
If you come back again Mr/Ms Anonymous, and if you can understand what I am saying, Thank You. If you can't, our bad luck.
Reminds me of my last trip to Germany. How the five of us survived on the food we ourselves cooked. Went on a shoestring budget to numerous locations. Spent five working days of the week planning the mode of travel for the weekend. Ate and drank merry.
Mom, before you chatack me,
[chatack]
no I didn't drink any liquour. And didn't befriend any gori mem.
But I missed the food you cook at home.
Yes, I am full of anticipation. Also a little trepidation.
Will it be fun? What of all the things I am leaving behind? Will I enjoy?
Will I miss all my friends I am leaving behind?
What I will do when I know I can't ring up didi any second I want to?
Innumerable question, only one reply. I don't know.
Raksha Bandhan just passed by, and I was caught in this place. Its been years since I spent RB with didi. This year, even the postal department #$%$ played foul. The registered post hasn't arrived yet. The whole context prevents me from invoking my imagination... but I really want to blast the seven generations of everyone working in the Indian Postal Department.
Its 5:38 am, raining outside and the weather is so pleasant.
I have just come to know that there is an avid reader of my blog. Thank You indeed, AR.
I tried standing on the balcony but the water dripping from the top, bouncing off from the iron railing and landing on my cheeks was too irritating.
I still managed to have a passing thought.
Will this road take me to
Where I want to go...
But wait, do I even know, where I want to go !
[Sorry for the poor rhyming scheme... I am not given to writing readable verse! :D ]
Wednesday, August 09, 2006
Impossible Dreams!
I have dreams. A zillion of them. Some of them are very close to my heart. Some of them appear frivolous to my friends and they might as well call them fancies or fantasies. Others are more serious. But they are all completely asexual dreams, just in case you were curious.
It doesn't matter to me what these are called. Each one of them having been born out of some realisation, I know that they are all equally dear to me.
There are some roadblocks in discussing them with even the core group of friends. There has been miscommunication in the past which I would rather avoid, and the beauty of these dreams can only be captured in their realisation. And yeah, didn't your grandma tell you never to share your dreams with others?
Some of my dreams are nigh impossible. Other are difficult. But I am not scared.
"The impossibility of my dreams cannot stop me from dreaming. For its all so beautiful in dreams. You can live life just the way you want to."
[July 5, 2006. A colorful book]
When I was 10, I dreamt of becoming a scientist. At 14 I wanted to be a software engineer. At 20 I was confused. Today, I am clueless. The only thing I can say is that I would rather be a good man than be any of these. Having come so close to making a big decision about the future direction sometimes makes me jittery. Amidst all these serious affairs, will those small stupid fancies die an infant death? Will I be able to stand in front of Sydney Opera House, be asked to dream, and find that the girl of my dreams is the one standing in front of me? [Poora DCH ishtyle] Will I be able to make that old-age-home plus orphan-home that I have so dreamt of?
At times, life is cruel. It torments you in a way only you can understand. Your friends think you are in one of the most enviable positions. But deep inside, you know better. Every (extended) evening, before going to bed, you say the same Amen. You think about the same things. You dream of the same stuff. And you have no clue if, when and how any of those things will ever come true!
You still have the same fears. Life is hazy and full of uncertainty. You dream, desire and want. But are afraid of admitting those desires even to yourself. You fear the worst, and so you avoid even the smallest risks. You dont want to make yourself vulnerable. Like a cocoon, you live in a weird safety, not knowing that outside lies a world where you can open your wings and fly.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Artist: Enya Lyrics
Song: Only Time
Who can say where the road goes,
Where the day flows, only time?
...snip...
Ref: http://www.lyrics007.com/Enya%20Lyrics/Only%20Time%20Lyrics.html
It doesn't matter to me what these are called. Each one of them having been born out of some realisation, I know that they are all equally dear to me.
There are some roadblocks in discussing them with even the core group of friends. There has been miscommunication in the past which I would rather avoid, and the beauty of these dreams can only be captured in their realisation. And yeah, didn't your grandma tell you never to share your dreams with others?
Some of my dreams are nigh impossible. Other are difficult. But I am not scared.
"The impossibility of my dreams cannot stop me from dreaming. For its all so beautiful in dreams. You can live life just the way you want to."
[July 5, 2006. A colorful book]
When I was 10, I dreamt of becoming a scientist. At 14 I wanted to be a software engineer. At 20 I was confused. Today, I am clueless. The only thing I can say is that I would rather be a good man than be any of these. Having come so close to making a big decision about the future direction sometimes makes me jittery. Amidst all these serious affairs, will those small stupid fancies die an infant death? Will I be able to stand in front of Sydney Opera House, be asked to dream, and find that the girl of my dreams is the one standing in front of me? [Poora DCH ishtyle] Will I be able to make that old-age-home plus orphan-home that I have so dreamt of?
At times, life is cruel. It torments you in a way only you can understand. Your friends think you are in one of the most enviable positions. But deep inside, you know better. Every (extended) evening, before going to bed, you say the same Amen. You think about the same things. You dream of the same stuff. And you have no clue if, when and how any of those things will ever come true!
You still have the same fears. Life is hazy and full of uncertainty. You dream, desire and want. But are afraid of admitting those desires even to yourself. You fear the worst, and so you avoid even the smallest risks. You dont want to make yourself vulnerable. Like a cocoon, you live in a weird safety, not knowing that outside lies a world where you can open your wings and fly.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Artist: Enya Lyrics
Song: Only Time
Who can say where the road goes,
Where the day flows, only time?
...snip...
Ref: http://www.lyrics007.com/Enya%20Lyrics/Only%20Time%20Lyrics.html
Babu Moshai !
This is dedicated to an old buddy. IR. His birthday just passed by, and a recounting of those good ol' days has been due for some time now.
The beautiful eligible ladies of the universe, Unite! And prowl on him. I bet you won't find a more handsome and smart guy in a radius of 23 light years. Contact me for more details.
I have known him very closely, in the completely non-gayish sense of the word. He has been a parDner in numerous activities, and his intellect still mightily impresses me.
I will try not to end up rewriting his "orkut testimonial" all over again. Given all the good times I have shared with him, that is a very tempting thing to do. It reminds me of the all the fun we had. Imagine:
=In the summer of 2002, we co-worked on a project. Now, summers at Kanpur are unbearably hot. Once, we were in the Computer Science Deptt ( CSE in IITK lingo) and the inside temperature in CSE is closer to zero than to outside temperatures. The elevator in CSE is completely metallic from the inside. So, we just went inside the elevator, sat there and closed the door. A minute later, suddenly, the elevator door opened. Whoever it was, he saw us suddenly getting up in a hurry. And he looked at us with curious eyes. [ Remember: Kanta ben in Kal Ho Na Ho ]
=We partnered for B Tech Project, which is a year long affair, spanning the entire 4th year. The scene was at our BTP guide's office. The prof emitted the sound of a half stifled hiccup. Under ordinary circumstances, it would be such a non-event. However, IR looked at me and suddenly burst into a loud laughter. The proff was gawking at him, and so was I. He mumbled something to the effect of advising the proff to drink some water, which turned out to be a pretty useless advice. We went on with our discussion when the proff seemed to have stabilised, but suddenly, another hiccup, another boisterous laughter and some more embarrassed gawking. The cycle repeated some 3 times. Even the prof next door saw that.
=You may not remember this IR, but you introduced me to both Talisma and Sweety!
Numerous other incidents can be told. I will refrain. 'Cos I have to devote some time to understanding the complexities of credit derivatives. Phew.
The last time I tried to deal with this issue, I ended up chatting with a chinki friend to lighten up my mood. The non sensical blabber, the TQ connotations and all the disgusting metaphors later, I realised that the night was over. A new day had come!
Another Pavlovian experiment, which today was interjected by those shocking words called 'Quiz'. Except that today, the proff decided to distribute marks for free to everyone who was present. The quiz was entirely based on formulae, it was open notes and the proff even told us the page numbers in the book where those formulae were given. I bet the ladies in the class must have wanted to kiss him if only he didn't sport a think dense beard!
How I wish other proffs, God and life were all so kind.
The beautiful eligible ladies of the universe, Unite! And prowl on him. I bet you won't find a more handsome and smart guy in a radius of 23 light years. Contact me for more details.
I have known him very closely, in the completely non-gayish sense of the word. He has been a parDner in numerous activities, and his intellect still mightily impresses me.
I will try not to end up rewriting his "orkut testimonial" all over again. Given all the good times I have shared with him, that is a very tempting thing to do. It reminds me of the all the fun we had. Imagine:
=In the summer of 2002, we co-worked on a project. Now, summers at Kanpur are unbearably hot. Once, we were in the Computer Science Deptt ( CSE in IITK lingo) and the inside temperature in CSE is closer to zero than to outside temperatures. The elevator in CSE is completely metallic from the inside. So, we just went inside the elevator, sat there and closed the door. A minute later, suddenly, the elevator door opened. Whoever it was, he saw us suddenly getting up in a hurry. And he looked at us with curious eyes. [ Remember: Kanta ben in Kal Ho Na Ho ]
=We partnered for B Tech Project, which is a year long affair, spanning the entire 4th year. The scene was at our BTP guide's office. The prof emitted the sound of a half stifled hiccup. Under ordinary circumstances, it would be such a non-event. However, IR looked at me and suddenly burst into a loud laughter. The proff was gawking at him, and so was I. He mumbled something to the effect of advising the proff to drink some water, which turned out to be a pretty useless advice. We went on with our discussion when the proff seemed to have stabilised, but suddenly, another hiccup, another boisterous laughter and some more embarrassed gawking. The cycle repeated some 3 times. Even the prof next door saw that.
=You may not remember this IR, but you introduced me to both Talisma and Sweety!
Numerous other incidents can be told. I will refrain. 'Cos I have to devote some time to understanding the complexities of credit derivatives. Phew.
The last time I tried to deal with this issue, I ended up chatting with a chinki friend to lighten up my mood. The non sensical blabber, the TQ connotations and all the disgusting metaphors later, I realised that the night was over. A new day had come!
Another Pavlovian experiment, which today was interjected by those shocking words called 'Quiz'. Except that today, the proff decided to distribute marks for free to everyone who was present. The quiz was entirely based on formulae, it was open notes and the proff even told us the page numbers in the book where those formulae were given. I bet the ladies in the class must have wanted to kiss him if only he didn't sport a think dense beard!
How I wish other proffs, God and life were all so kind.
May it be - Enya
"The Lord of the Rings"
May it be an evening star
Shines down upon you
May it be when darkness falls
Your heart will be true
You walk a lonely road
...snip...
May it be the shadows call
Will fly away
May it be you journey on
To light the day
When the night is overcome
You may rise to find the sun
...snip...
Ref: http://www.lyrics007.com/Enya%20Lyrics/May%20It%20Be%20Lyrics.html
May it be an evening star
Shines down upon you
May it be when darkness falls
Your heart will be true
You walk a lonely road
...snip...
May it be the shadows call
Will fly away
May it be you journey on
To light the day
When the night is overcome
You may rise to find the sun
...snip...
Ref: http://www.lyrics007.com/Enya%20Lyrics/May%20It%20Be%20Lyrics.html
Monday, August 07, 2006
Arbit Nonsense again.
Today, I feel vindicated.
I am not the only one who suffers from the how-to-control-my-TQ syndrome. There's a stupid someone else as well. Sample this:
X: koi nahin .. i will find out on my own ..dheere dheere :)
Me: heehee. yes, slow and steady wins the race. :))
X: so u r getting there huh :)
Me: everybody goes 'there' :D :P
X: haila .. pervert .. And I dont think everybody does .. they sure try to!
Me: u pervert... i was talking about 'death'. sheh! hail thee :)
If you don't understand the drift, stop. You don't qualify to read ahead. And don't come back. :P
I just re-noticed. All my sentences end in a smiley. So much so that sometime back, I was writing a report on Automobile Industry in India, and went ahead with this:
"... *** manufacturer has released only the 2 models X and Y. :D"
Is it the overuse of some software? Or a conspiracy of the aliens?
They surely do gang up against me. See, they have stolen my third umbrella after coming to IIMA. Surely, ladies and gentlemen at IIMA know better than to mistake someone else's umbrella as their own and not realise their folly ever after that!
End terms are within the line of sight. Exchange program will start in less than 4 weeks. Project submissions and numerous deadlines are approaching menacingly.
But I am sitting pretty easy, and comfortable.
Thats what tuchchadom does to you.
Psyko has offered to decode the numerous aliases I use here. Sure madame, go ahead. It will be a nice game of hide and seek. :-)
I'll stop fingering my keyboard now.
I am not the only one who suffers from the how-to-control-my-TQ syndrome. There's a stupid someone else as well. Sample this:
X: koi nahin .. i will find out on my own ..dheere dheere :)
Me:
X: so u r getting there huh :)
Me: everybody goes 'there' :D :P
X: haila .. pervert .. And I dont think everybody does .. they sure try to!
Me: u pervert... i was talking about 'death'. sheh! hail thee :)
If you don't understand the drift, stop. You don't qualify to read ahead. And don't come back. :P
I just re-noticed. All my sentences end in a smiley. So much so that sometime back, I was writing a report on Automobile Industry in India, and went ahead with this:
"... *** manufacturer has released only the 2 models X and Y. :D"
Is it the overuse of some software? Or a conspiracy of the aliens?
They surely do gang up against me. See, they have stolen my third umbrella after coming to IIMA. Surely, ladies and gentlemen at IIMA know better than to mistake someone else's umbrella as their own and not realise their folly ever after that!
End terms are within the line of sight. Exchange program will start in less than 4 weeks. Project submissions and numerous deadlines are approaching menacingly.
But I am sitting pretty easy, and comfortable.
Thats what tuchchadom does to you.
Psyko has offered to decode the numerous aliases I use here. Sure madame, go ahead. It will be a nice game of hide and seek. :-)
I'll stop fingering my keyboard now.
Sunday, August 06, 2006
Mujhe mat roko...
No, I am not typing from the edge of a cliff. Not even from the top of a skyscraper. And my chair is not high enough to cause me any material damage, even if I were to jump off it.
In fact, I've never been to the terrace of a really high building. But it must feel great up there!
Instead, I am admiring the beauty in the lyrics of this song:
"...
Usko pana hi meri zindagi ka maksad hai
Gar woh milta hai mujhe mar ke to mar jane do
...
Dil ki aankhon ne meri apna sanam dekh liya
Ab usi dar pe mere dam ko nikal jane do
..."
Before you jump into the Grand Inquisition mode, please don't. Because there really is nothing to tell! I wear a pair of thick specs on my 'dil ki aankh'. I can only differentiate between boys and girls [and that is very important in this age and time!]. No, I havent seen either my sanam or my maksad.
The disclaimers having been duly dispensed, let me talk about why I wrote these lines here at all.
I love this song. I love this feeling. The intensity of these emotions amazes me. And I am not a missionary of the Devdas clan. I was talking on phone with a friend, with this song running softly in the background. He asked me if I was alright.
Well dear friend, I am perfectly alright. And as happy as ever.
But this thought amazes me.
You live your life dreaming and wishing for a person, and are happy even to die to have him/her. Sometimes, this "having them" thought disturbs me.
I have had many crushes. Some serious, some non-serious. I never asked for anybody. I only asked that they be happy, with or without me.
No, I am not the seventh child of Raja Harishchand. And I am also selfish. But this is the way I like it. I sometimes doubt my ability to keep a normal human being happy for more than a few hours. A whole life, assuming she lives a few decent number of years after marrying me, seems next to impossible.
Chances are high that she will climb atop some skyscraper and plunge to glory, and a deep thud. And a painful disfiguring of the skull. And numerous questions.
But thats beside the point.
In school days, when the fever of romantic dreams was at its peak, I used to pray that my crush should never face any hardships. All the adversities that she has to face should be directed to me. Now that was a stupid thing to ask for, particularly at that age. But I did that.
Incidentally, once I got sick and was suffering from both Malaria and Typhoid at the same time. You can understand what that would do to a malnourished, disturbingly underweight boy. But I was happy. For I thought that one of these evils had her address on it, but dear God was moved by my prayers. I was happy!!!!
I always wondered which evil was meant for me.
Nevertheless, even though it all sounds so stupid, it still feels great. You know, it feels great that I had that feeling at some point in time. And I also had this feeling later.
Another 'deep' conversation with Strato later, I hope I have slain a few more of her curious creatures.
4:16 am is a good time to crush the insomniac Goliathus to a yellow pulp.
Did you know that the yellow pulp of a caterpillar tastes like a pinch of mashed potato drenched in lemon juice?
In fact, I've never been to the terrace of a really high building. But it must feel great up there!
Instead, I am admiring the beauty in the lyrics of this song:
"...
Usko pana hi meri zindagi ka maksad hai
Gar woh milta hai mujhe mar ke to mar jane do
...
Dil ki aankhon ne meri apna sanam dekh liya
Ab usi dar pe mere dam ko nikal jane do
..."
Before you jump into the Grand Inquisition mode, please don't. Because there really is nothing to tell! I wear a pair of thick specs on my 'dil ki aankh'. I can only differentiate between boys and girls [and that is very important in this age and time!]. No, I havent seen either my sanam or my maksad.
The disclaimers having been duly dispensed, let me talk about why I wrote these lines here at all.
I love this song. I love this feeling. The intensity of these emotions amazes me. And I am not a missionary of the Devdas clan. I was talking on phone with a friend, with this song running softly in the background. He asked me if I was alright.
Well dear friend, I am perfectly alright. And as happy as ever.
But this thought amazes me.
You live your life dreaming and wishing for a person, and are happy even to die to have him/her. Sometimes, this "having them" thought disturbs me.
I have had many crushes. Some serious, some non-serious. I never asked for anybody. I only asked that they be happy, with or without me.
No, I am not the seventh child of Raja Harishchand. And I am also selfish. But this is the way I like it. I sometimes doubt my ability to keep a normal human being happy for more than a few hours. A whole life, assuming she lives a few decent number of years after marrying me, seems next to impossible.
Chances are high that she will climb atop some skyscraper and plunge to glory, and a deep thud. And a painful disfiguring of the skull. And numerous questions.
But thats beside the point.
In school days, when the fever of romantic dreams was at its peak, I used to pray that my crush should never face any hardships. All the adversities that she has to face should be directed to me. Now that was a stupid thing to ask for, particularly at that age. But I did that.
Incidentally, once I got sick and was suffering from both Malaria and Typhoid at the same time. You can understand what that would do to a malnourished, disturbingly underweight boy. But I was happy. For I thought that one of these evils had her address on it, but dear God was moved by my prayers. I was happy!!!!
I always wondered which evil was meant for me.
Nevertheless, even though it all sounds so stupid, it still feels great. You know, it feels great that I had that feeling at some point in time. And I also had this feeling later.
Another 'deep' conversation with Strato later, I hope I have slain a few more of her curious creatures.
4:16 am is a good time to crush the insomniac Goliathus to a yellow pulp.
Did you know that the yellow pulp of a caterpillar tastes like a pinch of mashed potato drenched in lemon juice?
Saturday, August 05, 2006
Bhott do I want?
--Random thoughts disclaimer--
"Aye da, just look over there!"
Rather than 'there', I first had to look around me. Was he calling ME a yeda? [yeda=eccentric or something similar].
I mean, he had said it so sweetly, I wouldn't have taken offence to his plucking out a few hair from my armpit. But I needed to be sure about what he meant. People have weird ways!
Sometimes, people want to say something but end up saying something entirely different.
"I'd much rather rupture your ear drums with a toothpick than do this favor for you" is often disguised as "Okay, I will see". "No I won't" becomes "I will try".
"I am not so sure" becomes "Me too!".
I have had my share of such trickery as well.
Makes me wonder what it is that we are trying to achieve. I mean, it is stupid to assume that the counter party has a floating-point IQ in the range of 0-1. They can see it clearly. Why take the 'paap' then?
The compulsion to be socially/politically correct? May be.
At times, it is intriguing. "No, I am alright" means "I don't want to tell you". "Some other time" means "never". What do they/I want to say? What do I/they want to hear?
"Aye da, just look over there!"
Rather than 'there', I first had to look around me. Was he calling ME a yeda? [yeda=eccentric or something similar].
I mean, he had said it so sweetly, I wouldn't have taken offence to his plucking out a few hair from my armpit. But I needed to be sure about what he meant. People have weird ways!
Sometimes, people want to say something but end up saying something entirely different.
"I'd much rather rupture your ear drums with a toothpick than do this favor for you" is often disguised as "Okay, I will see". "No I won't" becomes "I will try".
"I am not so sure" becomes "Me too!".
I have had my share of such trickery as well.
Makes me wonder what it is that we are trying to achieve. I mean, it is stupid to assume that the counter party has a floating-point IQ in the range of 0-1. They can see it clearly. Why take the 'paap' then?
The compulsion to be socially/politically correct? May be.
At times, it is intriguing. "No, I am alright" means "I don't want to tell you". "Some other time" means "never". What do they/I want to say? What do I/they want to hear?
Friday, August 04, 2006
The kiddo who never grew up!
Don't we all have a kid inside us? Not in the "what-month-is-it" manner. More in the manner of the "Natural child" they talk about in psychology.
Don't we all crave to be carefree, fight like kids and do everything that is stupid in the world of grown-ups.
I surely like to. And I think most of us like to. To fight for the extra bit of chewing gum, to argue over which cartoon character looks more stupid and play those kiddo games. It fills us with glee to watch small kids do those things. Why then do we restrain ourselves from all that fun?
What stops us? The feeling that we have grown up?
People grow up and take to drugs. What kind of a growing up is that? People do all sorts of wicked things. Fie!
If that is growing up, I am better off as a kid.
Momma's boy, they might call me. So what?
I don't suck my thumb and I don't hide behind my mom. In fact, the last time I met my mom, I was the one who was trying to sound reassuring. See, thats what I call growing up. [Apart from having to buy still longer trousers, shirts and more.]
The next time I meet my sister, if I slap her back and run, she probably won't run behind me. She'll just shrug it off by saying, "Its time you grew up, kiddo!". I go to my cousin's place, find them playing with toys and all. I attempt to sit on their toy cycle, but the space in the seat is not sufficient for even my wafer thin bums. I concede that this is a part of the problem of being a grown up.
But why lose any opportunity to enjoy life with all the crazy antics!?
Why not do those stupidities and laugh about them !?
Second year at IIM-A is giving me so much time to think about myself. So I can sit back and wonder why I am suffering from hair-loss and why ice-cubes taste so good. In a month, I will be seven seas away. In a year, I will be in a different world. Carpe Diem!
Bis Spater!
Don't we all crave to be carefree, fight like kids and do everything that is stupid in the world of grown-ups.
I surely like to. And I think most of us like to. To fight for the extra bit of chewing gum, to argue over which cartoon character looks more stupid and play those kiddo games. It fills us with glee to watch small kids do those things. Why then do we restrain ourselves from all that fun?
What stops us? The feeling that we have grown up?
People grow up and take to drugs. What kind of a growing up is that? People do all sorts of wicked things. Fie!
If that is growing up, I am better off as a kid.
Momma's boy, they might call me. So what?
I don't suck my thumb and I don't hide behind my mom. In fact, the last time I met my mom, I was the one who was trying to sound reassuring. See, thats what I call growing up. [Apart from having to buy still longer trousers, shirts and more.]
The next time I meet my sister, if I slap her back and run, she probably won't run behind me. She'll just shrug it off by saying, "Its time you grew up, kiddo!". I go to my cousin's place, find them playing with toys and all. I attempt to sit on their toy cycle, but the space in the seat is not sufficient for even my wafer thin bums. I concede that this is a part of the problem of being a grown up.
But why lose any opportunity to enjoy life with all the crazy antics!?
Why not do those stupidities and laugh about them !?
Second year at IIM-A is giving me so much time to think about myself. So I can sit back and wonder why I am suffering from hair-loss and why ice-cubes taste so good. In a month, I will be seven seas away. In a year, I will be in a different world. Carpe Diem!
Bis Spater!
Thursday, August 03, 2006
He will catch up with me.
The guy who studied in the school in which my mother taught. Since I was the-convent-school-going child and this was a govt. school, I was allowed to boss around. At a tender age of 9, I replicated the behaviour of my classteacher.
"Hey you, tum shant kyun nahi baithte?"
"Shut up!"
Any violation of my tyrannical orders were duly reported. There was a boy who was too oversized for his class. Also too big for me. But I used to get back at him by complaining about him. He would often get punished when I was minding the class.
He passed out of the school, and became a gully-ka-dada.
Once he tried to corner me when I inadvertently took a shortcut which passed through that gully. I looked around and very cleverly called out to the first grown up person that I saw. That person turned out to be his father. Once again, I was the reason for his being sized up.
I am sure he must be having mighty grudges against that thin, stupid madam ka bachcha!
I hope I have changed enough not to be recognized. Otherwise he will bring about those changes in a much more painful way!
But today, something reminds me of him. Surprisingly, the same thought also reminds me of Sweety. Both of you have a lot of unrecovered dues, I know. But I hope you will also understand that it was a different time when all that happened. Much water has gone down the toilet flushes. Much more time has passed.
In the meanwhile, hopefully, I have grown up. Learnt my lessons. So Mister X, I never did that thing again. I tried to make friends among the students in that school. Remember Arjun? I don't know what he does now. Probably works somewhere. Might even be married. But I enjoyed his company. Remember that cute litle girl? I have even forgotten her name. She must surely be married by now. May be, even has kids. Two twins as cute has her, perhaps.
Sweety, I have learnt some lessons. I made you so many promises, didn't I? I/you/we saw those dreams that now feel like shards of broken glass. But then again, I think we had our share of joys as well. Joys, I might never talk to anyone about. For they are still ours. I still fiercely guard those jokes, those pranks and all the code language we used. You and I shall move on. In our own degress, we already have. I just wish this experience enriches the rest of our lives in the way it made our past memorable.
I also hope you won't stop trusting people. Remember once you scolded me for insulating myself from human feelings? How you convinced me that if I have to live this life, I might as well live it with all its embellishments! How you showed to me that one incident should not be enough to think the past was worthless or the future is hopeless.
I hope you remember those words and have acted on them yourself.
I will live my life, I will enter into new relationships, I will probably realise some of my dreams. But you shall never become an ordinary person for me. Because all that I learnt, in your vicinty and in the parting , has left me more capable of taking on life.
But I am still afraid of that guy. The gully ka dada. . .
"Hey you, tum shant kyun nahi baithte?"
"Shut up!"
Any violation of my tyrannical orders were duly reported. There was a boy who was too oversized for his class. Also too big for me. But I used to get back at him by complaining about him. He would often get punished when I was minding the class.
He passed out of the school, and became a gully-ka-dada.
Once he tried to corner me when I inadvertently took a shortcut which passed through that gully. I looked around and very cleverly called out to the first grown up person that I saw. That person turned out to be his father. Once again, I was the reason for his being sized up.
I am sure he must be having mighty grudges against that thin, stupid madam ka bachcha!
I hope I have changed enough not to be recognized. Otherwise he will bring about those changes in a much more painful way!
But today, something reminds me of him. Surprisingly, the same thought also reminds me of Sweety. Both of you have a lot of unrecovered dues, I know. But I hope you will also understand that it was a different time when all that happened. Much water has gone down the toilet flushes. Much more time has passed.
In the meanwhile, hopefully, I have grown up. Learnt my lessons. So Mister X, I never did that thing again. I tried to make friends among the students in that school. Remember Arjun? I don't know what he does now. Probably works somewhere. Might even be married. But I enjoyed his company. Remember that cute litle girl? I have even forgotten her name. She must surely be married by now. May be, even has kids. Two twins as cute has her, perhaps.
Sweety, I have learnt some lessons. I made you so many promises, didn't I? I/you/we saw those dreams that now feel like shards of broken glass. But then again, I think we had our share of joys as well. Joys, I might never talk to anyone about. For they are still ours. I still fiercely guard those jokes, those pranks and all the code language we used. You and I shall move on. In our own degress, we already have. I just wish this experience enriches the rest of our lives in the way it made our past memorable.
I also hope you won't stop trusting people. Remember once you scolded me for insulating myself from human feelings? How you convinced me that if I have to live this life, I might as well live it with all its embellishments! How you showed to me that one incident should not be enough to think the past was worthless or the future is hopeless.
I hope you remember those words and have acted on them yourself.
I will live my life, I will enter into new relationships, I will probably realise some of my dreams. But you shall never become an ordinary person for me. Because all that I learnt, in your vicinty and in the parting , has left me more capable of taking on life.
But I am still afraid of that guy. The gully ka dada. . .
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
Aiyoo, Wet Hair !
To be sure and precise, the wet hair on the head of a girl - that is what I am talking about.
They look so heavenly. Even if underneath them lies the face of Mayawati. It would be an original sin to talk about Mayawati and Preity Zinta in the same breath, so I will take a gasp full of breath. And think about the two wet-hair Bollywood scenes that are my all-time favorite.
Dil Chahta Hai : Shalini is flying back to India for her marriage, and is meeting Aakash. She is sad, her hair are wet. [Or look wet, which is all the same!] Aiyoooo! Subhan-allah!
Kal Ho Na Ho: She reaches SRK's home with a bouquet in her hands. She is sad and her hair are wet. AiyeeAiyeeoooo! Fida ho gaya mein to.
[I found two images on internet which are screenshots of scenes around that time. But not the exact one! :( And both are from DCH. ]
But if the wet-hair fascination were limited to a dimpled, cute PZ, it would still be OK. My my! I stand and gawk at people around me, when they adorn the wet look. Whether its the rain, the hurry to get ready, the Wet-and-Sexy Look Hair Gel, it doesn't matter. Ladies! you have it. Incredibly enchanting. Come with wet hair and take my breath away!
But do care to remind me beforehand so that I will chewsome mint-laced breath freshener!
If I find a girl to marry me, she will go mad. And probably I will never be able to argue with her. How easy for her na! - she runs to the shower, opens her tress, lets them get wet, and comes back to resume the argument. The arguing husband is missing. Instead, a dog is wagging its tail at her. His eyes are fixated on her hair, and she can have her way, in whatever manner it suits her. Take his credit card, ask him about his sweet secretary, or get him to clean the apartment, including the kitchen floor, utensils and clothes. May be even the baby's diapers.
A wet hair a day keeps the housemaid away!
In that respect, I think rain is a wonderful thing to happen. So many merry damsels walking around with wet hair! I have no lecherous intentions, I just like the appearance of those wet locks of hair.
My first encounter? Hmm. A big confession here. First year-second semester at IITK, Talisma. After that, it became a frequent incident.
So much for wet hair. The rain has stopped and on my way to lecture hall, I can't expect to see any more wet-haired girls. Sigh!
Aye geeli
tu bhi kabhi
aawaaz de kaheen se...
They look so heavenly. Even if underneath them lies the face of Mayawati. It would be an original sin to talk about Mayawati and Preity Zinta in the same breath, so I will take a gasp full of breath. And think about the two wet-hair Bollywood scenes that are my all-time favorite.
Dil Chahta Hai : Shalini is flying back to India for her marriage, and is meeting Aakash. She is sad, her hair are wet. [Or look wet, which is all the same!] Aiyoooo! Subhan-allah!
Kal Ho Na Ho: She reaches SRK's home with a bouquet in her hands. She is sad and her hair are wet. AiyeeAiyeeoooo! Fida ho gaya mein to.
[I found two images on internet which are screenshots of scenes around that time. But not the exact one! :( And both are from DCH. ]
But if the wet-hair fascination were limited to a dimpled, cute PZ, it would still be OK. My my! I stand and gawk at people around me, when they adorn the wet look. Whether its the rain, the hurry to get ready, the Wet-and-Sexy Look Hair Gel, it doesn't matter. Ladies! you have it. Incredibly enchanting. Come with wet hair and take my breath away!
But do care to remind me beforehand so that I will chewsome mint-laced breath freshener!
If I find a girl to marry me, she will go mad. And probably I will never be able to argue with her. How easy for her na! - she runs to the shower, opens her tress, lets them get wet, and comes back to resume the argument. The arguing husband is missing. Instead, a dog is wagging its tail at her. His eyes are fixated on her hair, and she can have her way, in whatever manner it suits her. Take his credit card, ask him about his sweet secretary, or get him to clean the apartment, including the kitchen floor, utensils and clothes. May be even the baby's diapers.
A wet hair a day keeps the housemaid away!
In that respect, I think rain is a wonderful thing to happen. So many merry damsels walking around with wet hair! I have no lecherous intentions, I just like the appearance of those wet locks of hair.
My first encounter? Hmm. A big confession here. First year-second semester at IITK, Talisma. After that, it became a frequent incident.
So much for wet hair. The rain has stopped and on my way to lecture hall, I can't expect to see any more wet-haired girls. Sigh!
Aye geeli
tu bhi kabhi
aawaaz de kaheen se...
Log Kya Kahenge!
I was brought up on this diet.
"Beta, yeh table jaldi se yaad kar lo. Warna log kya kahenge, isko itna bhi nahi aata!".
I appreciate the concern, and these exhortations served me well, but 15 years after all that, I have begun to hate the expression.
"Log kya kahenge."
To a grown up 22 year old, this expression has so many implications. So many restrictions that I have to impose on myself. I no more do so many things which I could have done without a second thought when I was 6. I have to walk around with an assumed air. I have to appear to be something I am not. I have to make sure I am not creating a 'scene'.
"Warna log kya kahenge."
Sometimes I escape to my magic spot. But I have to make sure people don't see me going. The next thing I know, they will come to me with a bottle of anti-depressants. I mean, I can't sport a face like Jim Carrey's all the time. I want to be with myself, and my room is too well-lit, too common a spot.
Frankly, most of the times, I dont really give a damn about 'log' when it comes to making my decisions. Yes, I do try to avoid inconvenient situations. But other than that, I understand that nobody else lives my life for me. Neither my parents, nor my best friends. I live my life. So I choose how I have to live it.
To that extent, CM is a very good companion. I would rather call him a mirror. Sometime back, I was walking with him. Just strolling around. I told him about some of my misadventures but I wasn't sure of somethings I was saying. He asked me pointed questions and gave me frank opinions. I think he understands that even though I value his opinion, I am not going to let his opinion dictate what I do, especially in concerns not related to him. I can tell him at his face, "Your opinion doesn't matter to me" and he won't mind. Probably that is why he can be blunt with me.
Sample this:
I am arranging a reunion. I am meeting many old friends and am trying to ensure everyone turns up. So I send reminders and push the agenda. Next thing I hear, someone wondering about why I am so keen on meeting this girl X. So I decide to drop the pursuit, not because I am concerned about what these people have to say, but I get the drift that not everyone around me feels that way.
And I hate it.
I have to restrain myself for the phantom concern called 'log'. As if they mattered.
Even if one were to discount the issue of social manners,
[ And I don't shove ball pens up people's nostrils in the real world! ]
it is ridiculous. Almost loathsome.
"You will become a manager. A leader. So you have to set an example. You must behave the way they expect you to."
I have heard these exact words. I would rather be a cab driver employed by Thakur Travel Agency than behave according to people's diktats.
I would rather not talk to a girl than have to talk in a manner which is desired/expected/deemed fit by anyone else except me and her.
I am not asking for the permission to forget toilet lessons.
I don't think I need anyone's permission to be myself. Rude, cold, forgetful and impolite - may be. But the model, ideal, social guy - pleeease!
Deep inside me, however, this 'log kya kahenge' demon is still alive. And even when I slay it [before it comes back alive again], I am not sure others [the ones I care to think about] have.
So I have to be like this. The type who cares about 'log kya kahenge'.
"Beta, yeh table jaldi se yaad kar lo. Warna log kya kahenge, isko itna bhi nahi aata!".
I appreciate the concern, and these exhortations served me well, but 15 years after all that, I have begun to hate the expression.
"Log kya kahenge."
To a grown up 22 year old, this expression has so many implications. So many restrictions that I have to impose on myself. I no more do so many things which I could have done without a second thought when I was 6. I have to walk around with an assumed air. I have to appear to be something I am not. I have to make sure I am not creating a 'scene'.
"Warna log kya kahenge."
Sometimes I escape to my magic spot. But I have to make sure people don't see me going. The next thing I know, they will come to me with a bottle of anti-depressants. I mean, I can't sport a face like Jim Carrey's all the time. I want to be with myself, and my room is too well-lit, too common a spot.
Frankly, most of the times, I dont really give a damn about 'log' when it comes to making my decisions. Yes, I do try to avoid inconvenient situations. But other than that, I understand that nobody else lives my life for me. Neither my parents, nor my best friends. I live my life. So I choose how I have to live it.
To that extent, CM is a very good companion. I would rather call him a mirror. Sometime back, I was walking with him. Just strolling around. I told him about some of my misadventures but I wasn't sure of somethings I was saying. He asked me pointed questions and gave me frank opinions. I think he understands that even though I value his opinion, I am not going to let his opinion dictate what I do, especially in concerns not related to him. I can tell him at his face, "Your opinion doesn't matter to me" and he won't mind. Probably that is why he can be blunt with me.
Sample this:
I am arranging a reunion. I am meeting many old friends and am trying to ensure everyone turns up. So I send reminders and push the agenda. Next thing I hear, someone wondering about why I am so keen on meeting this girl X. So I decide to drop the pursuit, not because I am concerned about what these people have to say, but I get the drift that not everyone around me feels that way.
And I hate it.
I have to restrain myself for the phantom concern called 'log'. As if they mattered.
Even if one were to discount the issue of social manners,
[ And I don't shove ball pens up people's nostrils in the real world! ]
it is ridiculous. Almost loathsome.
"You will become a manager. A leader. So you have to set an example. You must behave the way they expect you to."
I have heard these exact words. I would rather be a cab driver employed by Thakur Travel Agency than behave according to people's diktats.
I would rather not talk to a girl than have to talk in a manner which is desired/expected/deemed fit by anyone else except me and her.
I am not asking for the permission to forget toilet lessons.
I don't think I need anyone's permission to be myself. Rude, cold, forgetful and impolite - may be. But the model, ideal, social guy - pleeease!
Deep inside me, however, this 'log kya kahenge' demon is still alive. And even when I slay it [before it comes back alive again], I am not sure others [the ones I care to think about] have.
So I have to be like this. The type who cares about 'log kya kahenge'.
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
Pavlov, my Master!
Pavlov, my Master!Today, how much I remember you.
Boww Boww.
I always thought conditioning was the stuff of laboratory experiments, except when prefixed with air or hair. But for so long now, every Montag, Dienstag und Wednesday, at 10:10 am, I see the magic of your theory.
[ Yes, I am learning Business German, but I can't even remember all the days of the week! ]
I enter the laboratory hall no. 2 at 10:10 am. I start the experiment with a strong conviction that I will prove you wrong. But the moment I hear those beautiful, melodious and soporific words, I go off to a deep slumber. So deep that I don't care about which way my tail is wagging. Whether it is cleaning my chair or my neighbour's.
Now, in fact, even the thought of hearing those words makes me so sleepy. Someone tell me why they still sell sleeping pills. On second thoughts, probably the suiciders of the world still need those. But none else does. Be there in lab hall 2 to understand why.
I walk out of the hall looking and feeling so dazy, people pat my back and I don't register. Probably my nerve cells go to sleep. I even fail to notice the meaty bones coming out of the nearby lab hall. I just stand and gawk.
===
OK, I think I have spewed enough non sense on you. And I am sure the point has been driven home in a red Ferrari. I sleep in that lecture, very unashamedly. And I do it every single day. I hate to do it, and its not at all related [mostly] to the fact that I hate to sleep before 3 am so long as I can. But it is one of those bugaboos. And there's very little of that course left, so I don't care so much. I have that liberty because even the proff does not mind my head going on a 360' drive.
It bewilders me to see what kind of men and women these so-called elite institutes are churning out. Men with egos the size of Eiffel Tower. True, some of these people possess probably the sharpest brains in Vastrapur [may be, even Amdavad] , but that doesn't give them the licence to be rude. A particular friend of mine complains that the proff shouldn't have pained him for coming late to the lecture. He even said he was doing the proff a favor by going to his lecture. What an unfounded statement that is! How it smells of oedema! Numerous other instances abound, but you get the drift, don't you?
And its not just true of Business schools. Back at IITK, I knew of a friend who wouldn't consider making friends with people who weren't IITians. They are stupid by definition, she opined. How bombastic. [Sorry dear friend, for saying this!]
Sometime back, I was eating at a nearby eating joint. In the seat behind us, there was a group of girls. Now, since both of us, me and CoffeeMate are not gay, we found it an interesting idea to listen to the conversation they were having. Not that we had to strain our ears. In the typical Gujju style, their decibel levels were shooting off the roof. One girl said, " Yeh IIM wale hote hi hain proud, pata nahi kya samajhte hain apne aap ko". I pondered about this for sometime. CM wouldn't agree, but I allowed for the possibility that some things we unknowingly do could give others this impression. Especially since most of the time we don't seem to be bothered about all the hype and hoopla that media creates about anything related to IIMA.
Today, as I remember that statement, I agree with you lady.
We as a community, often are proud and egotist.
These elite institutes churn out brilliant managers and engineers. I wish they could also churn out good human beings.
When I look back...
I look back at the ~22 years I have spent wandering the blue planet. And man, do I feel blessed!
A special mom, a pair of lovely siblings and more than just a dozen of amazingly good friends. Not to mention the cute ma'm in class 4 who adored me, the English Sir in class 9 who was, for some strange reason, impressed and the warden Sir at IITK.
They helped shape the good part in me. I took care of the rest!
Having seen such blessings, I don't really mind the tough times I have seen:
=The innumerable bum-punctures, on the dumbest excuses ranging from pimples to fear-of-dogs. Some of them were a part of conspiracy of my brother to have fun at my expense. If I could travel back in time, dear brother, I would still accompany you to Doctor uncle, lie with my bum facing the roof and take the injection. Because you took me to the ice cream parlor after that!
=The numerous chatacks, pinches and twisted ears. I think the last one was a good exercise for my ear lobes. I have the Limca record for lifting 5kg weights on these lobes. Each chatack taught me a lesson. And I have learnt so many lessons this way, I could write a 1000-page book.
=The intensely sad moments and the times when I wished I could take an auto to the next galaxy. They helped me appreciate the happiness in life. I learnt to laugh for no reason. And I am grateful to Thakur Travel Agency for not plying on the route to Andromeda.
=The times when I was angry - with myself, God, my life, people in general and some people in particular. It burnt away a lot of my blood and prevented obesity. Mom says anger burns your blood. I haven't seen either the fumes or the flames, but I can't argue with her!
=Not having had so many things I always longed for - a younger sis, a Maruti to take me to school, a funky girlfriend in class 10, Preity Zinta in college days, even a single reply to my zillion love letters, and many more things.
=Having to drink hot boiling milk before going to sleep, everyday for a large part of the last 22 years or so. My parents think cow milk was the next best thing to happen to humanity after cows. Probably fire also, because milk must be drunk hot, they say. I hated it, especially when it was topped up with a layer of 'malai'. Nothing helped - neither trying to make a face that said, "Help, I am gonna puke in a nano-second", nor the pleading with Mom...
"It's hot"
"No, it's not" [ I pity I didn't copyright this before they started showing it in a TV ad!]
"It's hotttttttt"
"No, it's notttttttt"
"Mummyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy, I got burnt. it's hot."
"I will bring burnol. I will call fire-fighters. I will cook jalebi tomorrow. Now drink or else..."
In less than a second - glup, glup, glupppppppppppp. I lapped up all the milk and felt cheated when I realised my sister had succeeded yet again in convincing Mom that milk can be fatal for girls of her age.
Probably mik is good after all.
I sometimes face a dilemma. You meet someone, get close, live life like you never did and enjoy every moment of it. Then you fight, argue and go your own ways. You cause him/her pain and receive pain in return [but the latter doesn't bother you]. Should you wish you'd never met that someone?
Or is it just the way you got to live this weird thing called life?
A special mom, a pair of lovely siblings and more than just a dozen of amazingly good friends. Not to mention the cute ma'm in class 4 who adored me, the English Sir in class 9 who was, for some strange reason, impressed and the warden Sir at IITK.
They helped shape the good part in me. I took care of the rest!
Having seen such blessings, I don't really mind the tough times I have seen:
=The innumerable bum-punctures, on the dumbest excuses ranging from pimples to fear-of-dogs. Some of them were a part of conspiracy of my brother to have fun at my expense. If I could travel back in time, dear brother, I would still accompany you to Doctor uncle, lie with my bum facing the roof and take the injection. Because you took me to the ice cream parlor after that!
=The numerous chatacks, pinches and twisted ears. I think the last one was a good exercise for my ear lobes. I have the Limca record for lifting 5kg weights on these lobes. Each chatack taught me a lesson. And I have learnt so many lessons this way, I could write a 1000-page book.
=The intensely sad moments and the times when I wished I could take an auto to the next galaxy. They helped me appreciate the happiness in life. I learnt to laugh for no reason. And I am grateful to Thakur Travel Agency for not plying on the route to Andromeda.
=The times when I was angry - with myself, God, my life, people in general and some people in particular. It burnt away a lot of my blood and prevented obesity. Mom says anger burns your blood. I haven't seen either the fumes or the flames, but I can't argue with her!
=Not having had so many things I always longed for - a younger sis, a Maruti to take me to school, a funky girlfriend in class 10, Preity Zinta in college days, even a single reply to my zillion love letters, and many more things.
=Having to drink hot boiling milk before going to sleep, everyday for a large part of the last 22 years or so. My parents think cow milk was the next best thing to happen to humanity after cows. Probably fire also, because milk must be drunk hot, they say. I hated it, especially when it was topped up with a layer of 'malai'. Nothing helped - neither trying to make a face that said, "Help, I am gonna puke in a nano-second", nor the pleading with Mom...
"It's hot"
"No, it's not" [ I pity I didn't copyright this before they started showing it in a TV ad!]
"It's hotttttttt"
"No, it's notttttttt"
"Mummyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy, I got burnt. it's hot."
"I will bring burnol. I will call fire-fighters. I will cook jalebi tomorrow. Now drink or else..."
In less than a second - glup, glup, glupppppppppppp. I lapped up all the milk and felt cheated when I realised my sister had succeeded yet again in convincing Mom that milk can be fatal for girls of her age.
Probably mik is good after all.
I sometimes face a dilemma. You meet someone, get close, live life like you never did and enjoy every moment of it. Then you fight, argue and go your own ways. You cause him/her pain and receive pain in return [but the latter doesn't bother you]. Should you wish you'd never met that someone?
Or is it just the way you got to live this weird thing called life?
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